Current mood:	sleepy
Entry tags:	fanfic: bleach, fanfic: ouran, meme: 20loves, pairing: kyoutama, pairing: ukibya

20loves continue
Gah, sleepy. Waiting for Dad to call regarding safe arrival. *mphgoakdfj*

Table 1: Kyouya x Tamaki


Theme 11

You’re the one who’s not trying harder. If you want to surpass your brothers, then do so. The one who’s not doing anything and giving up…is really you! By the way, Kyouya, where’s the kotatsu? – Suou Tamaki, Ouran High School Host Club, Chapter 33

They were sitting under the kotatsu again, only this time, Tamaki was sitting beside him instead of on the opposite side, his head cradled between his elbow and Kyouya’s knee, snoring softly, rhythmically, lulling Kyouya into a sleepy, warm state. If he was more responsible, a better person, even, he would be waking the boy, at least getting him another blanket as he dozed under the warmth of the kotatsu, but that would require Kyouya to stand up and inevitably wake up Tamaki, which he was loathed to do. So instead, here he was, sitting still and dozing, eyes wandering between the variety show that was broadcasted on New Year’s Eve and the sleeping form resting in his lap.

Of course, this had all been Tamaki’s idea. He’d wanted to include the entire Host Club, wanting to welcome the New Year with his host family, never mind that he couldn’t stay awake past nine o’clock at night. But the Hitachiin twins had bowed out before Tamaki could even propose his brilliant idea. Hanni-sempai and Mori-sempai had cram school through the New Year’s, for the national exams wait for no one. And Haruhi had excused herself for family time. Tamaki had cried the most at that last excuse, bawling and wondering why “Otou-san” wasn’t included.

So, instead of a celebration with five other people, Tamaki had arrived at Kyouya’s doorsteps at the crack of dawn on the last day of the year, soaking in wet snow and looking pathetic. Dragging the boy in, Kyouya had ordered the servants to fetch clean clothes, himself steering Tamaki in the direction of his bath. Twenty minutes later, a freshly showered Tamaki was waiting for him under their kotatsu, pulled out for occasions only such as these, and in the middle of the table was a bowl of sweet golden mandarins, the type that Tamaki likes best.

“Ozoni.”

Kyouya twitched awake from his empty staring by the sudden mumbling that came from his lap. Looking down, he saw Tamaki was still asleep, drooling slightly into the heavy haori that Kyouya had threw on him after the snowy debacle. His face was flushed pink with warmth from either sleeping in Kyouya’s lap or the kotatsu heater.

Amused, and wondering what Tamaki could possibly be dreaming, Kyouya asked, “What ozoni?”

“Soup,” Tamaki mumbled in answer, twisting slightly to bury deeper into Kyouya’s knee, smearing drool across his pants. Kyouya grinned at the sleepy mumbling and turned back to the variety show that was now showing the many home recipes of New Year’s food. Making a note to tell the chefs to make ozoni for a midnight snack, and waking Tamaki for the fireworks when midnight rings in, Kyouya began peeling a mandarin, knowing from experience Tamaki would be craving one once he woke up.



Theme 12

It had been a long day. Tamaki had brought the entire Host Club into Kyouya’s bedroom, waking him at the ungodly hour of five in the morning, and dragged him, asleep and barely dressed, into the new mall that had opened, claiming he wanted to experience a commoner’s experience. Thankfully, or not, this time Tamaki didn’t leave him walletless, cellphoneless, and directionless, sleeping on a bench.

No, this time, Tamaki had dragged him up 30 floors of shopping, yelling, and over hyper kids with barking dogs, ensuring that Kyouya was never going to get the sleep he needed. Then, after who knows how long of chasing after the next amazing commoner’s item, with the Hitachiins and Hanizuka-sempai screaming everything in tandem with Tamaki, Kyouya was finally allowed to sit down and rest, only to realize too late that Tamaki had decided to make him watch a juvenile and over acted stage play designed to advertise the newest set of action figures. Even Kyouya, who had only gotten three hours of sleep since the night before and had the will of steel, could not sleep in the commotion of cheering youngsters.

By lunch time, Kyouya was ready to call his chauffer, except Tamaki kept taking his cellphone away, insisting that they experience the commoner’s food, which consisted of dubiously named burger and fries. Kyouya refused to touch the stuff. It had been one thing eating with Haruhi, but to do the same when the rest of the Host Club was witness to his actions and…

Even with nothing in his stomach, Kyouya was ready to hurl at the smell of overly sweet smoothie that Tamaki was gulping down beside him.

Come afternoon, Tamaki had managed to acquire three new sets of outfits, a cheap suit, and a new dogmate for Antoinette. Louie, he called him, and Kyouya spared a brief moment for the unfortunately named pair. However, he was quickly distracted from Tamaki’s horrible naming sense when the loud speaker declared the 3 o’clock afternoon sale. The rush had jostled Kyouya wide awake, only for him to mourn his sleepiness, when he could bear, even not mind, the squeeze of body against body, pressing him uncomfortably into Tamaki’s back with something uncomfortably pressed against his own.

When they were finally home, Kyouya didn’t bother with goodbyes or niceties, merely stalked into his room, leaving the rest of the Host Club to chatter happily, vapidly, about the day’s acquisitions.

Rubbing the bridge of his nose, where his glasses had made little indents from sitting there all day, Kyouya groaned into the pressure. It was little relief when his whole body felt battered and pressed, bruises probably forming in unspeakable places. His knees hurt from standing all day without rest, his muscles screaming with fatigue and lack of sleep. His brain felt like oatmeal, the disgusting stuff that Tamaki swore tasted good. And his ears where still ringing from the unending white noise of the mall.

He was nearly asleep, at the very least, ready to, when he felt the smooth press of thumb into the sole of his feet, sending sore but pleasant tingles up his legs, relaxing over-tense muscles. Prying open one eye, Kyouya looked down, seeing a fuzzy blob of yellow by his knee.

Too tired to raise himself up for a proper look, Kyouya sank into the soft bedding, feeling himself loosen with each massage of Tamaki’s talented hands. So all that piano playing was good for something after all. When those lithe fingers dance from his feet to the calf of his leg, rubbing away the tension there as they did with his soles, Kyouya hissed at the soreness of cramped muscles stretching, relaxing, and the rush of blood into the oxygen deprived tissue.

It was then that Tamaki looked up, eyes catching with Kyouya’s myopic gaze, and even from the blurry distance, Kyouya could see Tamaki was grinning, happy and thankful.

It was moments like this that made Kyouya promise Tamaki the moon.



Table 2: Ukitake x Byakuya


Theme 6

Your heart is in your throat as you watch the battle, knowing it’s not fair, that you have to be here, protecting the gates while Byakuya is out there, in another dimension but not out of sight, fighting an enemy that has an unexpected advantage. Watching as Byakuya proceeded, one step after another, unwavering, unmoving, not giving an inch of ground as his body took another beating. You want to run back to Genryusai-sensei, tell him it’s not fair, a child shouldn’t have to take up his grandfather’s burden. You want to run to him, release your own sword and cut the enemy to pieces, so small not even the 12th Division can put him back again. You want to take the boy to the 6th Division, right now, and have him swathed with bandages from head to toe and never let him leave your sight again.

Except he’s not out of your sight, not even now, when the 12th Division has invented this new surveillance technology, that allowed you to see every slash made into his young body, each splash of blood staining his black kimono red. And you think it’s not fair that the youngest and brightest has to be on the frontline, while you, who had centuries of experience under your belt, growing old with time, sit here waiting for the young warrior to fall.

Sit here, and ignore the way Shunsui had stopped sipping his sake, that Yoruichi was nowhere to be found, that Kisuke was MIA. You don’t even notice Kaien and the way his hand worries the hilt of his zanpakto, even though your vice-captain had never been able to stand Byakuya’s presence.

When the boy’s Achilles’ tendon was cut, the snapping sound of muscle coiling into itself without the counter force of the heel, it was only Genryusai’s reiatsu, flattening you to the ground without incantation, that prevent you from charging into the foray. It doesn’t stop you from demanding, however, through a wheeze, “Why are you doing this? He’s just a boy!”

A boy who lost his grandfather and was now expected to take his place, immediately. A boy who was barely out of shinigami training school and already sent on missions that were much too dangerous for his still developing senses to fully succeed.

“He is a noble and the heir of Kuchiki. This will be his test,” Genryusai-sensei tells you without a hint of worry and you think, in that moment, that you can fight him and even win, this time.

But you didn’t need to, because the incantation for bakudo 61 calls your attention, as you look back to see the six rods of light slam into the monster’s midsection, securing him from another attack.

And you can finally breathe again, watching as Byakuya hobbles onto his good leg, then calling upon Senbonzakura, releasing the sword seemingly without hesitation, the soft pink petals scattering the opponent into smaller dust than you could ever hope to achieve.

Finally, your sight widens, seeing Unohana-sempai already leading her team to the gate, Shunsui ordering for clean up, and Genryusai-sensei gone, as though he was never here. You wonder if you have the constitution to ask, whether all this was his prediction, and what he had intended to do had Byakuya been unable to release his sword, but you think you’d rather live in ignorance. Time was better spent rushing to where Byakuya had been swallowed into Minazuki and check on the boy yourself.

He’d proved himself in face of Gotei 13’s recent losses, but you can’t be happy, not when you know with a bone deep certainty the trials ahead.

~*tsuzuku*~